When The Tough Gets Going…

I may be putting too much stock in how proudly and positively I deal with the stresses and disses and setbacks that afflict me. I’m not an alcoholic. I’m not an abuser or a destructor. Sure there’s some self-pity I wade through but I recognize it and strive to keep the levels down and I’m always on the lookout for the good in the world even if it’s hard to find.

But yeah… that job I wrote about wanting so bad a couple weeks ago? The one I thought I was perfect for and to which i could bring all my enthusiasm and talents to bear?

Well I didn’t even make the first cut. Didn’t even score an initial interview. Found out last night just before bed via a polite “you’re not it” in my email inbox. Had to take a Sleep-Ez to silence the flock of whygulls flying around my head so I could get some shuteye. It worked, but I woke up with them clucking and squawking in full feathered formation this morning.

So I’m getting the hell away from the computer right now and out of the house right now and taking the birds with me onto my bike for a long ride right now because I’m finding even the littlest most meaningless of things are setting me off: The repair man next door who doesn’t know how to speak below a minor roar. The woman in the newish 4-Runner digging with her two kids through the recycle bin waiting on the street to be emptied. The disbelief expressed via a Blogging.la commenter that I didn’t ask a specific question to someone I interviewed yesterday.

These are trivial matters but my amplifier is set to 11 and I’ve got to escape the distortion. This is the way out.